63 Down
by sweet-surrender5
Summary: A oneshot PostHappenstance GSR. Misanthrope: a person who hates or distrusts mankind and in most cases his or her own humanity.


a/n: I had a random impule to write a post-ep fic for Happenstance, so here it is! It's not too special, but meh. I was bored. Thanks to **Dany **over at YTDAW for helping me with Grissom's townhouse layout...the pictures and plans helped!

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI...

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**63 Down**

"I spent the day sitting on a bench outside the courtroom. They never got to me," Sara said, a smirk on her face as Grissom's blue eyes met hers over his book.

"That sucks," was his answer as his eyes left hers to resume reading. _Thanks for the sympathy, _she thought. But she hadn't really been expecting some anyway. She turned her head to look at the book that he seemed to be so interested in.

"Feeling transcendental?" She asked. It was more of a statement than a question. Grissom was _always _feeling transcendental.

"Hm?" He looked up, and she gave him a full blown Sara smile, glad that she had his attention once more.

"Thoreau? I, uh, haven't read him since college," She said, the smile still on her face. Grissom normally loved that smile, but today he seemed sort of lost inside his head.

"Me neither…" He replied, "It holds up. _"I would rather sit alone on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion."_" He quoted.

Sara's smile had faded from a radiant beam to a quiet sort of shyness. For a second, she thought about it, wondering if he had meant that as a double entendre. He would often say things that could mean something on a different level…But this time she was ready with a comeback. Picking up the crossword on the desk, she smirked.

"Oh, look. You missed one, 63 down..." Sara said, her tone slightly flirty.

"Misanthrope."

The word came out slightly accusing, and Grissom caught it, staring at her while he bit the inside of his lip. Sara saw this telltale idiosyncrasy, satisfied that she had made him think. She loved to challenge him; throw in a little 'touché' here and there. She knew it drove him crazy, and what she did next was bound to make him mad.

Giving him 'once over' look and a twist of her mouth, she turned to leave.

"I won't wait up," She said with a sparkle in her eye. With one last smirking glance, she left, leaving him alone with his book.

He watched her leave, a slightly confused look on his face. The woman drove him insane. How she could come in to him after sitting for an entire workday on a bench and be in such a mood like that was beyond him.

He hadn't meant anything by the quote – he had just liked it. It kind of reminded him of himself, the kind of person who would rather be separate in a decent place than suffocating with many people somewhere pointlessly lavish. Sara, apparently, had taken it as him wanting to be alone and dug at him with a hermit comment.

He closed the book and picked up the crossword. _63 down...Misanthrope._ He bit the inside of his lip, picking up a pen and scratching in the word "cynic".

* * *

He reached into the back of his book and took out the letter, putting it into his pocket and standing. With a sigh and a shake of his head he headed out to his car. 

When he opened the door to his townhouse, the smell of what he guessed to be fettuccini greeted him. Sure enough, as he walked past the living room, there was Sara, sitting on his couch with a plate of pasta, a magazine in hand.

"Hey…" He said quietly, leaning against the support pillar.

"And so he returns," She said mysteriously, forking some pasta into her mouth. She didn't turn still, but kept her eyes on her magazine. Grissom's eyes narrowed. She was really in an odd mood today. He walked over to the couch, perching on the edge of the sofa.

"I didn't mean it the way you thought I did," he started, watching her face for a reaction. She swallowed some pasta and her eyebrows flicked up.

"Hm?" She hummed, still not looking at him. He rolled his eyes slightly.

"That quote. It didn't have some kind of underlying meaning, Sara."

"I didn't say it did."

He sighed, lifting one hand to his face to rub his cheek frustratedly. She was playing the same game he'd just played with her at the lab.

"Okay, I get it," He surrendered, "I just like the quote…"

She forked some more pasta into her mouth, telling him that she wasn't about to speak.

"…I'm not a misanthropist," He continued when he noticed this.

"Hmph. Sometimes I'd beg to differ," Sara muttered. He leaned in closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Misanthropists don't date," He said softly in her ear. She finally turned to look at him, his face mere inches from hers. His eyes challenged hers, that eyebrow cocked above them almost like a proverbial exclamation mark. His eyes then flicked to her lips and back up to her eyes. He moved his face closer to hers, bending his neck a little for a better angle. Then…Sara put the fork in her mouth and took a large bite of fettuccini.

She had to admit, the look on his face was quite amusing. It took almost all of her power not to laugh. Swallowing loudly, she stood up and licked the sauce from her lips.

"Whatever you say, pumpkin boy," She teased, leaving him slightly defeated in midair. After a moment to recollect himself and regroup, he stood and followed her to the kitchen area, where she was putting dishes in the sink. He pinned her against the counter, his arms on either side of her.

"It was just a quote," He said. His voice was low and gruff. Sara looked up at the ceiling, willing herself not to smile.

"All this because I said I wouldn't wait up, Grissom?"

"No…because you called me a hermit."

"You called yourself a hermit in the first place."

Grissom sighed, letting his arms drop to his sides. A lot had been on his mind lately. Apparently Sara had noticed that he'd been a little self-centered lately. He felt bad, he really did.

"Sara…I know I'm not the best with people. I can be a little introverted sometimes. But I care about people. I care about you. You know that…" He said, leaning back on the breakfast bar across from the sink. Sara dried her hands on a towel and smirked at him.

"I'm going for a shower…look over there," She said, nodding over to the fridge. He looked, only to see a plate of steaming pasta sitting on the counter. _So she had waited…_With a chuckle of disbelief, he turned back. Sara wasn't there, so he walked down the hall in search of her.

He found her in his bedroom – _no, our bedroom_, he corrected himself – taking off the silver necklace that framed her collarbones so well.

"You are so evil…" He said, shaking his head.

"I know," Was his nonchalant answer. Picking a towel up off the bed, she made to leave for the bathroom, but she was stopped by his hands on her hips as she turned.

"Don't shower yet," He said, a little smile forming on his face.

"Why?" She asked.

"Your hair looks too good like that. How do you expect a man to just let you go wash it all away?" He said, tucking a piece behind her ear and kissing her softly. She hummed against his mouth as she laughed. Smiling, he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers.

"I'm sorry…I've been a little caught up lately," He apologized, his warm fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt, playing at the small of her back. She kissed him this time, opening her mouth to him.

"You charmer…"

"Oh, so I go from hermit to charmer?" He chuckled, smiling so that she could see his teeth. She loved when he smiled like that. She just laughed.

"You know, you're on my pumpkin, right?" He said, nuzzling her neck with his nose. She pushed his shoulders back and he froze for a second.

"Prove it," she said, pulling him by his collar until the back of her legs hit the bed and they fell to the mattress. They kissed for a while, until the laughter died down. Then Grissom pulled away. He stroked her hair with one hand and looked at her face, slightly flushed, but radiant. She really was looking a lot better lately. Healthier and happier. In his life at the moment, she was the one thing that seemed to hold it all together.

"I love you," He said reverently. A small smile graced that beautiful face and she pulled herself up to kiss him on the lips. It was obvious after a little bit that she wanted to heat things up, because her fingers were starting to unbutton his shirt. When he realized this, he pulled away with a sigh and rolled over so that they were lying next to each other.

He simply couldn't do this when he wasn't being honest with her.

"I got an offer from Brown to take a sabbatical and teach there for a while," He said, staring at the ceiling. Silence followed his words for a moment and then her voice cut through the air.

"Are you going to accept it?"

"I don't know."

Sara propped herself up on one elbow so that she could see him. Her brown eyes looked concerned.

"Do you want to?" She asked. He sighed.

"I…I think. I really love teaching, Sara. And I might need a break. But…is that okay with you?" He reached out a hand to caress the side of her face. Her hand reached up to cover it.

"It doesn't matter if it's okay with me, Griss. If you want to, go ahead," She said softly, "But for the record, I'm glad you want to take a little time off."

"Really?"

"Really."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead, intending it to be only an affectionate peck. But Grissom grabbed her hips and pulled her almost on top of him, capturing her neck with a warm, wet kiss.

"So how about that shower?"

* * *

The next week, Sara woke up in an empty bed. He'd be gone for a while, be they had planned for her to visit him when she had days off. In truth, she'd been sad to see him go. But she had known that Grissom needed a break. His migraines were getting more common and he looked tired quite often. He needed to go, so she let him. 

Stretching, she rolled over to his side of the bed, her intent to nuzzle her nose into his pillow and smell him on it. But her nose hit something that wasn't cotton. She opened her eyes to find a sheet of paper lying on the pillow.

"_Now who's the hermit?" _Was all it said. Laughing, Sara got up and headed toward the door, but stopped as she saw a yellow post-it stuck to the mirror.

"_P.S. I love you. - Gil"

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a/n: Okay, the end's a little cheesy. But we all love a little fluff, don't we? 


End file.
